Sugar And Snow
by SassyShots
Summary: Light of the Capitol, she shines brightly, even under her uncle's thumb. With the coming of the 74th Hunger Games, she knows change is in the air. A girl she believes can surprise everyone, a man who smells of salt and sea that she can't seem to resist, and more secrets than any one person should hold. When the last ember burns out, will she still remain shining through the smoke?
1. Change

**Author's Note:** So, I decided that while I absolutely loved the direction I was headed with this a year ago, it needed a little reworking and some editing. Thus, we have Sugar And Snow, 2.0! So for those of you who were fans of this story before, I hope you enjoy the little bit of reordering I've done. If you're new to this story, I hope you enjoy it! Cheers! :D

 **Story Information:**  
 _Rating:_ Fiction M- for language, adult themes/situations, violence/fighting/gore, graphic material, mind games, scandal, arena hubbub, and the like!  
 _Pairing:_ Finnick/OC and OC/OC, side canon pairings.  
 _Casting:_ Electra, _Daisy Clementine Smith_. Orion, _Lucky Blue Smith_. Slade, _Andy Biersack_.  
 _Warning!:_ There will be some OOC-ness involved, or simply an assumption of character personalities that are not completely explored in canon. This is also AU in the sense that it focuses more on a character's life within the Capitol. While Katniss and Peeta are a definite part of this story, this piece of fiction is not Everlark centric. Some like these kinds of stories, some don't. Hopefully since you clicked on it, you do!  
 _Credits:_ Special thanks to _**ChildOfDivinity**_ , for helping with casting original characters and no doubt pre-reading! Thank you, love! :D

 ***Sneak Peeks/Posting Alerts/Story Extras:** Find it all on Tumblr at **SassyfiedScribbles** , your go-to for everything story related!

Support and feedback is always coveted and encouraged, and definitely welcomed. Please keep any story hate or flaming/bullying to yourself however, positive criticism is the best way to help anyone. There are plenty of stories out there, if this one isn't for you, I encourage you to find one that is!

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games related from the novels/TV series/any other resource. I also do not own anything recognizable/trademarked/copyrighted. All of that belongs to its own creators, authors, directors, producers, etc. I do own my original characters, and personal plot bunnies!**_

* * *

 _"Better to fight for something, than live for nothing."  
_ **-Book I-**

* * *

"Brave…" She muttered.

"Idiotic." The boy next to her scoffed, a tight scowl twisting at his lips.

Twisting to gaze over her shoulder at her companion, her eyes roamed freely over his face and peered beneath the icy demeanor he used to keep the masses at bay, knowing good and well that he was talking out of his ass. Despite the harsh tone and less than pleasant assessment of the young girl they watched upon the oversized screen, she knew that he thought she was many a thing aside from stupid.

"Protective," She compromised, turning away once more, dainty fingers clasped lightly around a flute of still bubbling champagne..

He remained silent.

A small smile of victory lifted her lips and she crossed her legs, one over the other, before she returned her eyes to the screen as she tipped the flute to her lips again. She watched on avidly as the brunette stood on the steps of her district's Justice Building, her spine stiffened to the point that her bones were more than likely screaming for release. Her face was still a little shell-shocked, those gray eyes impossibly wide with disbelief, but mostly held a surprisingly emotionless mask- even as the name of the next male Tribute was called and it became clear, to her own eyes at least, that they knew each other.

That handshake was too much contact and too long in length for anything but.

Her eyes never left the pair, carefully cataloging their reactions and giving a quiet snort at their mentor's antics, ignoring the mutterings and annoyingly high-pitched babbling of those around her. They spoke of excitement for the coming Games, their faces painted an array of colors and their hair styled in the most laughable of ways, though she long ago learned to hide her mirth from view of the public eye. Dyed colors so vibrant it almost hurt physically to look, and piled so high with wig upon wig, she had briefly considered the possibility of the strain of such hairstyles simply snapping their vapid little necks; they were the highest of Capitol society. They each sipped their champagne freely, absently picking through foods that some in the country couldn't even dare to dream of eating, and nonchalantly discussed the upcoming deaths of no less than twenty-three adolescents, tittering about like imbeciles.

Her stomach clenched.

Bile churning, throat closing up.

Their very presence so near made her _sick_.

She turned brilliant blue eyes back to those scurrying along on the screen she had been watching, swallowing a mouthful of bubbly liquid in the hopes it might settle her nausea. Their striking color was a natural one, no artificial enhancements twisting their shape or altering their hue. Her hair was the color of her namesake, falling down her back to nearly brush her hips in gently tousled waves. She had forgone any intense styling, the idea of balancing such a thing made her nose wrinkle. Instead, she was dressed to impress in the fashions of her favorite up-and-coming stylist, his work pure art upon her ivory skin.

Tilting her head with intent appraisal; gray eyes blinked at her through the projection screen as the newly volunteered girl was herded onto the awaiting train alongside her district partner. Those sitting on the plush couches of the atrium around her had already dismissed the outer-district tribute, though her outcry and volunteering had been both surprising and strangely poetic. In their mindless eyes, few from such a district ever amounted to anything worth paying attention to.

She'd have to change that.

 _Everdeen_...

"What are you thinking?"

Slowly, she looked away from the screen as the bullet train's doors sealed shut, meeting a pair of silvery-blue eyes that watched her closely, evaluating her every move and expression. They burned into her skin, peering through the mask of supremacy and carefully hidden emotion with very little difficulty, just as she did with him. Her lips turned upward in a striking smile, one which made those on the ground floor below them that had been watching on squeal with delight or point with excitement, her eyes allowing him a glimpse of what her face would not.

Wicked ideas.

Change was coming, she could _feel_ it.

"Electra." His tone was reprimanding, his gaze sharp and his broad shoulders stiff.

Reaching out, she patted his forearm comfortingly, letting out a small giggle when he narrowed his eyes in suspicion and nearly bared his teeth at her through his mounting frustration. Her eyes flicked back to the large screens, taking note of the betting pools and charts that were already beginning to fill and the replay boards of the Reaping across the districts.

"I do believe this year will prove interesting," She murmured, mostly for show. "Let the games begin."

* * *

 **-Sugar And Snow; Story Information, Continued-**

 **Naming:** I know names in the Hunger Games canon can be weird sometimes- some have surnames, some don't, etc. I've named my original characters as best I can, sometimes to display the ridiculous nature of the Capitol and their ways, or sometimes because it will be descriptive of their traits throughout the story. Any questions, just shoot me a message or ask in a review!

 **Verbage:** The language of the Hunger Games universe seems to be a mixture of modern times (what we use now) and older, before the use of contractions and whatnot. So I've done the same, kind of mixing the two into one language and throwing some curses in there because, come on. Like those situations don't call for it!?

 **AU/OOC:** I know, this piece is a bit different. It references views and things mentioned in both the novels and movies, but doesn't stick to either. I've given names to places in the Capitol, and people as well. The story focuses on a life the revolves around the Capitol- living within it during Games and Non-Games times, playing the political field, and guarding against the deadly aspect of having a tyrannical leader in the family. So please keep that in mind!

 **Shipping:** Names, anyone? ;)

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 _Want More? Find out about these characters and even more! Everything from sneak peeks, casting calls, looks into their lives, and discussions with the actual characters! Updates and announcements will also be posted over the stories you follow and love! Just search and follow **SassyfiedScribbles** on Tumblr now, for your special look into the fandom!_

* * *

 _No Editing Beta here, all mistakes are my own! If something stands out, please feel free to let me know. Enjoy! :D_


	2. One

**Author's Note:** Well, here's the reworking of the first chapter! I've done some condensing and added in some things here and there! There will probably be one more reworked chapter, and then new content! Yay for editing! :D

Story feedback is always coveted and encouraged, and definitely welcomed. Please keep any story hate or flaming/bullying to yourself, however. There are plenty of stories out there, if this one isn't for you, I encourage you to find one that is!

 ** _Disclaimer: Please see beginning!_**

* * *

 **-One-**

* * *

"Seneca Crane."

Her voice was pleasant enough as its airy and light tone filled his ears, but he still froze in place as he lifted the forkful of braised lamb to his lips. At nineteen years-old, she shouldn't have any sort of hold over him, or frighten him either for that matter; but with her surname and that smile that could turn from sweetly beaming to sinisterly malicious in a single second…

She kind of did.

He lowered the silver utensil back to his plate, lifting his head and taking her in with a pair of blue-gray eyes.

Foregoing the usual Capitol style of exuberant wigs and fashion, she chose instead to clad herself in vibrant colors and sparkles. For the televised Reaping, she had sat on the upper balcony in the main atrium surrounded by those who did their best to remain close to her, primly sipping flutes of champagne. It wasn't lost on him that _he_ was the first person she was visiting after the broadcast, not even returning to her suites to change from the wispy, shimmering silver number she was dressed up in. She had never really been one to engage in the extremities of the Capitol, choosing instead to remain with her natural hair, eye, and skin tones. He could understand why, even he could see her beauty in the long length of snowy hair, chilling blue orbs that peeked out from beneath full and thick ebony lashes, and a fair skin tone that matched perfectly with both. She was exotic in an inherent way, without the aid of dyes and alterations.

"Electra Snow," He returned after clearing his throat, patting at his lips with a lime green napkin that had been folded upon his lap. "What can I do for you?"

She flashed him a blinding smile before pointing to the empty seat across from him. "May I?"

He arched an intricately trimmed eyebrow and smoothed his thumb and index finger over his equally trimmed beard, waving his free hand toward the open seat invitingly.

"Please."

Electra gave him another charming smile, slipping out of the silvery fur stole draped over her shoulders before lowering herself delicately into the seat, murmuring her thanks to the Avox boy that had appeared almost from thin air upon her arrival to push in her chair. She ordered a single glass of wine, crossing one leg over the other under the table and propping her chin in the cup of her palm as she turned her chilling eyes on him.

It was silent.

She watched him carefully as he watched her, neither choosing to fill the air with banal small talk; instead she allowed his mind to submerge into a doubtless frenzy as he tried to puzzle out her appearance upon his evening meal. It had been a long time since she came to him with a proposal of any sort, though the last time her idea had gotten him promoted to Head Gamemaker. True, she had done it with a secret hope that it would one day prove useful.

 _Today_ was that day.

With a gentle sip of her wine, she blinked her eyes back up to pin him with her gaze.

"I have a request."

Seneca groaned quietly, his eyes falling shut.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips as she watched him, more than amused at his obviously pained expression. Closed eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, the thirty year-old had even pushed his plate away and thrown his outrageously colored napkin down upon the spotless table. She took the moment to look him over, approving of the trim cut of his tailored suit, though he could have gone with a better color than the deeply purple pattern. The lapels were more of a lavender hue, the handkerchief matching with swirls hidden in amongst the thread.

She smothered the urge to laugh.

"Electra, you know that I cannot-" He began, heaving a sigh.

She rolled her eyes and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh please, don't give me the same speech you give the others. You _owe_ me Seneca, I'm the sole reason you hold the seat you do now."

He narrowed his eyes into squinted slits.

She merely grinned back at the infuriated man, a wicked thing with a flash of pearly white teeth.

Aware of the growing crowd gathering outside of the tall windows their table was pressed against, Seneca smoothed his facial features into ones of a pleasant comradery, relaxing the muscle in his jaw so that it wouldn't continue to tick sporadically in his irritation. Electra relaxed in her seat, the poise something along the lines of a lazy grace as she chose to let the man stew in his thoughts, taking small sips of her wine as he jerkily pulled his half-full plate back in front of himself, realigning the silk napkin in his lap.

"What do you want?" He bit out, refusing to let his tone corrupt his small grin.

"A simple thing," She murmured, looking up through her lashes innocently.

Seneca waited impatiently, more than likely wishing he could reach a single arm across the fine oak table and strangle her with his own bare hand, she was sure. He arched his dark eyebrows high on his forehead, chewing a bite of tender lamb a tad more viciously than called for, gesturing idly for her to proceed.

"Florian." She stated bluntly, leveling her now steely eyes with his. "I want him out."

He nearly choked on his meal, taking a large gulp of wine to wash the lump of unchewed meat down his throat before he made a fool of himself in front of both the Snow Heiress and the quickly amassing public, all of which were bouncing excitedly outside of the windows.

"He makes his District tributes look like a pathetic joke-" She continued, gritting her teeth when Seneca interrupted.

"They _are_ a joke, Electra."

"Not this year… _this_ year they have potential," Electra hummed, narrowing her eyes a bit. "And I won't have a fashion has-been completely wrecking their chances in their Capitol debut."

Seneca pushed back his plate as he sank into the plush cushion of his seat, the cleaned surface reflecting under the chandeliers that hung above, signaling to an Avox servant that he was done. She gave the young boy a charming smile, doing her best to ease the guilt churning in her stomach over his predicament, and turned her eyes back to the man across from her when he cleared his throat, demanding her attentions. He eyed her carefully as she did, and the blonde didn't shy away from his gaze as it dipped over her before moving back up again.

"Is that it then?" He laughed quietly, a derisive and mocking amusement dripping from his tone. "You've picked the poor little District Twelve girl as _your_ Victor this year?"

Electra bit back a snarl, forcing her lips to curve into an inviting smile instead of the cruel sneer that threatened to stretch across her face at his patronizing tone. Instead, she gave him a secretive shrug, a coy look slipping over her features as she batted thick, inky lashes at him.

"Call me a romantic," She tutted, before giving a roll of her eyes. "Besides, you and I both know the fool lost his touch long ago."

Seneca eased back further into his seat, crossing one leg over the other and curling his fingers around the edges of the armrest, balancing a small cup of espresso on his knee. She mirrored his posture, lifting the crystal wine glass to her lips as she waited for his verdict, her heart beating a little more rapidly in her chest as she held his gaze, a small grin pulling her lips upward. There was a spike in the general din of noises from the street-front, a round of coos rising on the air from their audience that went unnoticed by the duo.

 _If she could just pull this off…_

"Who do you have in mind?" He questioned, his genuine curiosity brimming to the surface, unable to be quelled any longer.

Electra nearly wilted back into her seat, her outward expression displaying none of the true relief she felt. If he was asking her opinions, then he was coming around to her way of thinking. Her statement wasn't very arguable anyway, the elder Tribute Stylist had begun declining in his works of fashion back when she was still young and naïve. Fixing an excited smile upon her face, she sat forward again as if to share a secret with the man, abandoning her wine glass.

"Cinna. He would do well," She supplied, her lips quirking. "He does _excellent_ work, I can assure you."

Her tone was breathy, feminine, and she watched as the elder male's eyes darkened just a touch at the edges as they perused her form, both openly and greedily inspecting the tight bodice of her sparkling silver dress before letting them drift down to the flowy skirt that cut across her thighs at an angle. His expression wasn't one that she was unfamiliar with, and something curled deep within her belly as she forced herself to remain still beneath his heavy gaze.

"Yes, I daresay he does." Seneca murmured, his tone deeper than before.

She gave him a moment before clearing her throat.

He blinked rapidly, breaking their steady gazes before sitting upright and taking a large drink of the scalding liquid in his cup, burning his mind back into its proper place as he considered her request. He shifted slightly in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. The girl was right and he _detested_ that fact. The old stylist had been a disappointment for some time lately, and he _did_ owe her, loathe as he was to admit it. Seneca gave a resigned sigh, glancing at the watch beneath his cuff, more than aware of the late time with an early, hectic schedule the next day. He didn't wish to argue, or dig any deeper to try and decode her motives over such a last minute proposition.

"Fine." He snapped, moving to stand. "Tell your favorite he can take District Twelve, he put in a request for them anyway I believe, though why anyone would _want_ such a place…"

Seneca shook his head, dismissing it with a small scoff.

Her squeal of glee reverberated through the open restaurant, drawing inquisitive glances from those within and exclamations from those who had gathered along the public walkway, each awaiting her exit, no doubt hoping to win a moment of her time. Seneca could not halt the indulgent grin that twisted his lips despite his earlier irritation, helping her to stand before gently draping the fur back in place, over her shoulders. His large hands smoothed away any wrinkles under a guise of adoration, but the grip on her upper arms as his fingers curled around them was harsh and nearly bruising. He leaned in over her shoulder, lips brushing lightly over sensitive skin, to whisper hotly against her ear.

"Do _not_ make me regret this, Elle."

* * *

She stood overlooking the water, concentrating on the lap of tiny waves and the hum of fountains instead of the crowd miles behind her. Moonlight reflected off of the sparkles in her dress and heels, even the long length of snowy hair that tumbled down her back; it made her look almost ethereal to any who happened to pass by, though most were caught up within the _Reaping_ celebrations in the heart of the city. Her nails tapped lightly against the safety rail that kept those with little sense from falling into the darkened depths below, the quiet noise a steady beat through her thoughts.

He was meeting her.

And she was jittery with both apprehension and excitement.

If she was even _remotely_ right in her musings, this could be the opening they needed, their statement waiting to be made.

The man approached from the left, his pace confident and his gait powerful, but altogether unhurried. A garment bag was draped over his shoulder lazily, but with sincere care, a few boxes tucked underneath the opposite arm as well. He was dressed in dark clothing and, like her, he left most of the over-the-top enhancements to the many other citizens of the Capitol to indulge in; save a smooth, wispy stripe of gold eyeliner along each lid. She turned to face him as he stopped alongside her, reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders in a warm hug after he placed the items safely upon the bench seat next to them.

"Cinna!" She greeted, her tone content but hushed.

The dark haired man grinned down at her, brushing a strand of rebellious hair from her face. "Elle, I thought surely you would have rather me come to you with your things instead of this."

"No, no-" Electra chided, rolling her eyes playfully. "That's not at all why I called you here."

He looked puzzled, glancing around them quickly before arching an eyebrow in a curious speculation. The teasing, sly smile twisting her lips upward let him know something was amiss.

"I did it."

Cinna remained silent, staring down at her in confusion.

" _You_ are in, and Florian is out."

His eyes flashed and widened at the same time before he grabbed the younger girl by her arms, pulling her into an embrace as he bent to whisper, his dark eyes tracing over every detail around them for a sign of danger. Those who joined them at the fountains were too far away to overhear, and any monitoring devices wouldn't pick up the sounds of such a low conversation over the hum and rush of water.

She had picked the spot wisely.

"Are you truly certain Electra, that you want to do this?"

For a short while she simply clung to him, feeling a calming wave of safety that she didn't most of the time. She was always looking over her shoulder, thinking and then triple thinking over her words before they ever left her lips. Her blood did not afford her any more leeway than most, sometimes even less so with what was expected.

Her mind touched briefly on all that she knew; the sickening spectacle put on each year, the amount of blood that stained and cursed most of her family's hands, the secrets that had been bestowed upon her in a rippling purr when she was but a girl of five and ten; leaving her heart bleeding and forever damaged, while butterflies roused and fluttered to life within her stomach.

 _Yes._

She nodded against his chest jerkily, ignoring the worried sigh that left his lips.

"I sure hope you can come up with one of your masterpieces Cinn," Her voice was quiet, but teasing. "You've got less than forty-eight hours to do it."

* * *

Their collective glares hit her the moment she stepped through the door.

Stepping was a generous term perhaps, it was more like a stumble, fumble and nearly a fall with the different bags and boxes she just barely managed to balance in her hands as she made the trip from the lobby to the penthouse of her suite building. Her arms burned lightly from the bit of a strain and she grumbled underneath her breath quietly, easily beginning to regret turning down Cinna's earlier insistence on delivering the parcels to her the next morning. Giving a small huff as she placed the boxes on the dining table, she blew a stray lock of hair from in front of electric blue eyes, turning to gaze across the open floor plan with a slight scowl and a great deal of confusion.

Frigid silver and cobalt blue stared back at her, unblinking.

"No, no!" Electra snarked, placing a single hand on her hip that was cocked to the side. "Please, don't get up or anything, I've got it all handled!"

Their eyes flashed with their apparent ire, and their lips stayed sealed.

Electra rolled her eyes, giving up on the both of them as she turned back around, gracing the small Avox girl that had appeared behind her with a gentle smile. The silent girl was a small thing with vibrant green eyes that crinkled just the slightest when her lips twitched upward in response, the limited company and safety of the penthouse suite being the only reason she felt comfortable in doing so.

Sensing the level of mounting tension, the redhead quickly gathered a few of the boxes, giving the elder girl a slight bow as she disappeared down the hallway once more with them, just as silent as she came.

"Where have you been?"

Kicking off her heels, the snowy haired girl padded around the curving couch into the living room, keeping her reaction to the voice hidden away from being displayed through her expression. It was rarely so chilled, laced with the hint of a barely controlled fury that she couldn't quite understand, especially when speaking to her. She blinked silently, her eyes finding their way toward the two teenage boys that lounged on the leather couch opposite of her, their stares boring into her skin.

They were complete opposites, putting their similar heights and statures aside.

One held a stare that was an icy silver which could turn to a molten gray depending on his mood, while the other was a striking cobalt blue that wasn't quite so different from her own. One possessed silky strands of the deepest black, as if he had dipped them in an inkwell or borrowed the hue from a stray jabberjay, and it just barely brushed against his shoulders in length. The other's was cut a few inches shorter, though it still reached just below his ears when it wasn't styled, and it reflected her own white-blonde locks. Perhaps the most noticeable difference aside from their contrasting hair colors was the glint of silver upon the dark headed boy's lip, a small ring of platinum that pierced the left corner of his lower lip.

They were each a few inches over six-feet tall, their features strong and chiseled, often shaped in impassive masks or fake smiles to please those who carefully looked on. She had known the both of them her entire life; if they weren't by her side, they were simply just a few paces over her shoulder.

"Electra."

She glanced up lazily, pulling her eyes from where they had strayed to peer down at the bubbles slowly rising in her glass, meeting the probing gaze of her twin brother.

"Orion."

The blue-eyed boy blew out a breath of frustration through his nose loudly, his eyebrows pulling downward and his defined jaw clenching tightly as he narrowed his eyes. She met them calmly, her own flash of irritation passing through the electric color of her eyes before she found herself slumping down into her seat, foregoing all pretense of proper posture as she gave in to him, if only slightly.

"There were a few things that I needed to attend to before I met with Cinna this evening, he'll be stopping by in the morning by the way," Electra hummed, tipping the drink to her lips for a sip. "-then I returned here. Happy now?"

Her tone held a hint of snark and a sneer, but there was no real heat behind it. She knew he only wished to keep her safe, and knowing where she had gone after disappearing without a word was half the act.

It was their best friend that she found herself worrying about.

The raven-haired boy was utterly silent in his seat, so quiet in fact that it set her teeth on edge. Those silvery eyes seemed to have hardened into shards of cloudy ice and were glaring, without blinking, down at the low table he was positioned in front of, like they could light the holo-pad resting there into an inferno with only the aid of his gaze. She sat up a bit, her lips parting so that she might question his behavior, but her words died in her throat when he suddenly lurched forward and reached out with a long arm, smacking the holo-pad with such a force, Electra feared it might crack.

A gaudy string of themed music echoed through the room, the telltale sign of the beginning to one of the Capitol's top gossip reports, and her blood turned just a bit cooler.

" _Greetings Capitolians, Kozmo Steel here with your late night edition of ISpy; the go-to source for Panem's latest prattle, chatter and buzz!"_

She didn't even notice that her bottom lip had become ensnared between her teeth as she watched the two-foot tall hologram flicker to life before her; even as warm fingers gently pried it loose, swiping the blood that stained the gentle pinkness of her lips away.

The tiny replica of the human form shimmered in the dim lights of the penthouse living room, the ostentatious man flashing a row of too-white teeth in what, some people, thought to be a charming manner. His hair was slicked back against his head and dyed a deep violet color, streaked and patterned throughout the hue with touches of silver and black. His skin was a bit too tanned, swirling metallic silver spirals etched into the overly golden color at the corners of eyes that changed hue depending on his stylists' mood; Electra wasn't exactly certain what their true color even _was_. His attire was outrageous; a hot pink suit coupled with silver undershirt and platform boots that made up for his severely lacking height. Really, she had once thought he had the potential to be handsome, if he hadn't twisted and transformed his features in so many ways that they would never be capable of returning to their original bone structure again.

Kozmo Steel was someone she tried to avoid often, given his penchant for nosiness and his inability to keep his yapping mouth shut. But the slimy little man was always lurking around the next corner or hidden in shadow, looking to snatch up bits of gossip and scandal around the Capitol that he could broadcast before all the others.

Putting it simply, being Panem Royalty and one of his most favorite targets to pursue, she quite possibly hated him. And she had a sinking feeling that predisposition would only increase in its potency after the show.

" _It's a big, big day in our wonderful Capitol and across Panem's Districts as Reaping Day kicks off our seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!"_

He flashed a beaming smile, his sharp teeth on display as he clapped enthusiastically, and she felt her stomach curl in revulsion.

 _"Now, while most of us have been captivated by this year's pickings – yes, I mean you, hunky District Two! – or the heartstopping declaration of the District Twelve female tribute's call to volunteer, there are even more exciting things afoot under our noses in the city! Electra Snow, proclaimed Golden Girl of the Capitol and niece to our very own President Snow, graced us with her presence for today's televised Reaping. The blonde bombshell was seen with best friend – but_ not _snuggle up, snuggle down buddy (or so they say!) – Slade Wolfhart, and a handful of close acquaintances in the VIP atrium of the Entertainment Hall. Dressed in a striking silver number, no doubt the work of personal stylist Cinna, the nineteen year-old made quite the impression as she showered the Capitol's public with glittering smiles and indulgent photo-op's."_

Bright blue eyes darted up to catch said best friend's clenching jaw and fists as he glared at the pixilated creation, his nostrils flaring.

" _While this may come as no surprise, it is what the young Elite Capitolian was up to mere hours later that has me itching for answers! Sources say, Electra was seen without her usual company (brother, Orion Snow and previously mentioned, Slade Wolfhart) as she perused High Fashion's Walk shortly before stopping off at a popular wine and dine for a bite to eat. And who was she meeting, you ask? Well, I could keep you guessing but I'll simply indulge you instead- the Capitol's Head Gamemaker, one Seneca Crane!"_

Electra's face paled dramatically, turning her ivory skin tone a pallid color.

She cringed back into her seat when the sharp sound of glass shattering pierced her ears, silver eyes that had turned to molten, smokey depths burned into her gaze as Orion's heavy hand landed on her knee, giving it a firm squeeze, almost holding her in place.

" _The two were said to share an intimate conversation and after dinner drinks –captured images can be found on the interactive tab below, my lovelies!– before Mr. Crane saw the young lady off, though not without stopping to adjust her furs and deliver a lingering kiss to her temple first! Both Seneca and Electra have been witnessed in conversation at many events before, but nothing quite like this. It begs the question, is our Princess Snow soon to be courted? Or were the two figureheads simply catching up over a bit of Game discussion? Not to worry, ISpy will keep an attentive eye on the situation! Next up- the newest trend, live additions to your silky strands! Join me as I search out-"_

The slam of a palm connecting violently with the electronic device once more reverberated throughout the room before a tense silence settled around its occupants, rife with a mixture of fury and astonishment. Two sets of piercing orbs focused on a pair that were wide in disbelief and glued to the table in front of her, their owner's jaw slackened in shock.

Seneca Crane…courting _her_?

Electra wanted to scream in outrage but the stunning revelation of the gossip announcer's newest theory had her rooted in place, nearly unable to form a coherent thought, much less a physical reaction. She could feel the searing gazes of both her brother and friend, like a heavy weight upon her skin, but she couldn't seem to lift her head or speak a single word of rebuttal that might ease their frustration.

The crash of the holo-pad shattering against the far wall made her gasp. Her head snapped upright, striking blue eyes opened wide and startled.

"Crane?!" Slade nearly snarled, his teeth glinting in the light as he bared them.

Electra shuddered as his icy tone swept across her skin, a confused scowl twisting her lips as she peered back at him. "It's a lie, you already know that Kozmo Steel will say just about _anything_ to garner attention! The man is practically twice my age, my god!"

The pair glared hotly at each other, ignoring Orion's exasperated sigh.

He smoothed his finger along his brow line with both his thumb and forefinger, tracing the line of his angular cheekbones before pinching his nose as he shook his head. The frosted blonde wanted nothing more for the evening than to gain the answers he sought, preferably without watching on as his little sister and best friend spiraled down into a heated confrontation. Electra had her pride, and Slade allowed his emotions to fuel his aggression; it made for a diabolical duo or a disastrous verbal sparring if left out of control.

"Explain the fucking photos then, Elle!" The shadowy haired boy spat as he advanced a single step toward her, unaware of when he had gotten to his feet. "The two of you looked _awfully_ cozy together, after all."

She let out a shriek that reached cringe-worthy decibels, lurching forward suddenly in an attempt to rise to her feet, so that she might close the space between them. The desire was thwarted however when a warm, restraining hand landed on her shoulder palm-side down, firm fingers curling over her collarbone as they forced her back into the plush cushions of the couch she was seated upon.

"Calm yourselves," Orion hissed, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. "The _both_ of you!"

They each folded back into their seats after staring at each other a moment longer, the picture something akin to scolded children; Slade's fury reduced to a simmer while Electra's indignant tenacity seeped from her veins, leaving her slumped and exhausted against her brother's side. She let out a long sigh, working her fingers absently through the wind tousled strands of her hair that had settled upon her arrival.

"Now," Orion began, easing into the leather at his back as the tension in the room dimmed. "Why the hell were you sitting down with Crane, anyway? You know he cannot be trusted."

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, an action that did not go unnoticed by her companions.

While she knew both the men in her life would be obviously relieved to hear that the short meeting with the Capitol Gamemaker had nothing at all to do with any romantic inclinations, Electra was more than aware both Orion and Slade would be equally irritated that she had dared to bargain with the slippery man. For now, the idea of posing Cinna as District Twelve's new stylist looked and seemed simple enough at face value, the royal niece of the country only wanted to add a bit of flare to this year's set of games, a benefaction to the public some might say.

Lurking underneath that sensational subterfuge though, was something else. The two would easily see it for more than what simpleminded and uninformed others would.

 _"Elle…"_

The tone left little room for refusal and, rolling her eyes with a quiet huff of air, she finally caved.

"I may have called in a favor."


	3. Two

**Author's Note:** Second reworked chapter! The next will have new content, though there are some little changes here and there throughout this one! It's nearly eight thousand words, so happy reading!

 ** _Trigger Warning!:_** Slight physical assault/rough handling near the end of this chapter. Please keep that in mind as you read!

Story feedback is always coveted and encouraged, and definitely welcomed. Please keep any story hate or flaming/bullying to yourself, however. There are plenty of stories out there, if this one isn't for you, I encourage you to find one that is!

 ** _Disclaimer: Please see beginning!_**

* * *

 **-Two-**

* * *

 ** _74th Annual Hunger Games Opening Ceremonies  
Tribute Parade Day-  
Panem; The Capitol_**

"They are rather upset with you."

Vibrant blue eyes rolled in the mirror's reflection, plump lips quirking in a smirk that wasn't entirely genuine after his mention of the two males who paced somewhere within the penthouse suite, their agitation nearly palpable, even through the heavy oaken doors that separated her room from the rest of the Snow Heir's suite.

"Everyone is talking now."

She exhaled softly through her nose, her tone dry. "Yes, I'm quite aware."

For a single moment, as Electra met eyes with the dark green ones that peered back at her worriedly through the reflecting glass from over her shoulder, she allowed him to see what lay hidden beneath the mask she had painstakingly created. There was a sense of anticipation for the day's events lurking in their depths, a certain percentage of her own concerns over the newest predicament she had managed to find herself in, but above all else, there was fatigue.

 _She is tired,_ Cinna realized.

Her confrontation with both Orion and Slade in the early morning hours of the day before had left her restless, unable to gain any significant amount of sleep throughout the darkness. She had rolled from side to side, squirmed in place as she searched for comfort despite the softness of the sheets; she even made multiple trips to their kitchen where she waved off the sleepy, green-eyed and permanently silent girl who tried to tend to her mistress, practically shooing the younger girl back to her sleep.

Hour by hour, in the silence of night, her mind had revisited her plans and ideas.

Really, should anyone take notice of the fact that a handful of coincidences seemed to sprout from thin air, Electra had covered their tracks well. And despite the fallout of her brother's and friend's anger, the gossip over her meeting with Crane could more than likely work in her favor.

Those smart enough to see that the mere idea of the Snow Heiress and Head Gamemaker courting was simply laughable, would look at their time spent together and the sudden appearance of someone new within the District Caretaker ranks as an act of friendship. A favor, perhaps. If they were _truly_ honest with themselves, they would admit that really, it was about time for a change. Her close connections and friendship with Cinna might possibly call his abilities into question at first, but the Stylist would easily prove his worth throughout the appearances made by his Tributes.

There was only one member of the Capitolian People whose level of suspicion she allowed herself to fear; all other hints of skepticism could be explained, bought, and blackmailed away, should the need arise.

 _Coriolanus Snow._

Her uncle.

Thankfully, if she broke down the multiple strategic aspects, he would only arch an eyebrow if the girl somehow managed to actually win the Games. It all hinged on the outcome. Should, by some miracle, any of Electra's aid manage to push the Everdeen girl into the grand finale, her ability to lie and camouflage with her uncle would then be put to the test. If the girl died her bloody death though, Electra's efforts would simply be brushed aside, winning her a patronizing smile and a _'Perhaps next year, the odds shall be in your favor, dearest'_.

She broke eye contact in the mirror as bile rose in her throat, a mask of indifferent nonchalance fitting itself to her features, neither acknowledging just how much she had allowed Cinna to see in her lengthy silence.

"I cannot believe you won't even give me a _tiny_ hint!" Electra pouted, seamlessly diverting topics of discussion. "Even after I floated suggestions!"

Immediately upon his entrance to the penthouse, weighed down with garment bags, boxes, and his weapons of choice -because a curling iron most certainly _can_ be such a thing- she had begun her quest to discover his outfit choices and designs for the soon to be arriving tributes. All through breakfast she had tried to sway the smirking man; resorting to blackmail (which she had none of), threatening (which had no heat behind the words), physical snooping (she was then informed that his assistant, Portia, was guarding the creations down in their workroom at the Tribute Center), and finally –much to the begrudged amusement of both Orion and Slade– actual begging.

 _Nothing_ cracked the man. He was solid in his secrets, like marble.

So Electra pouted.

Cinna chuckled under his breath, fingers twisting expertly as he finished off the braided crown of her snowy locks that would sit upon her head, acting almost like a headband. Beneath it, long strands tumbled down her back in gentle waves and loose curls, her bangs swept to the side of her forehead. She held perfectly still, relaxing into his embrace in a way that was reserved for only those she held closest to her, her eyes slipping shut with the soothing motions of his hands as they worked with the silky locks. Once Cinna finished, his fingers danced down over her shoulders, sweeping the loose locks to arrange them perfectly so that the one-shouldered, ruched fabric of her dress could be displayed upon her left shoulder.

The material was a mixture of chiffon and silk, resting just a few inches above her knee, the hemline an inverted sweetheart-cut that rippled and radiated a royal blue. He had adorned it with diamond and sapphire drops to decorate her ears, a cuff of platinum encircled her right bicep, and whimsical snowflake rings rested on the three fingers of her left hand, thumb and pinkie excluded. Reaching out, he held her hand for balance as she slipped her feet into the open-toed heels he provided, their color a bright metallic silver that was displayed in the straps and almost wing-like design that sat atop her foot.

With a touch of white shimmery shadow and royal blue liner to highlight her eyes, she looked every bit the part her name required without falling into the category of the _'Capitol Crazed'_.

Blinking her eyes open upon his murmured request, Electra stilled as she gazed into the flawless glass of the three-paneled mirror. The image there made her breath hitch appreciatively; she never stopped being amazed at the artful creations he bestowed her with.

"You're a fashion _god_ , Cinn." She breathed, smoothing her fingers down over the silky softness that was the front of her dress.

The Stylist stood behind her quietly, intensely focused eyes critiquing his work as it lay on display and then crinkling at the edges with fondness as she complimented him. Reaching forward, he gave a soft squeeze to her right hip, staring into her startlingly blue eyes through the reflective pane, sharing a conspiratorial smirk that slowly grew upon the younger girl's lips.

"And thanks to you, today all of Panem will know."

* * *

They walked three astride, and the crowd parted for them. It was silent among the triad however, something that irritated Electra to no end.

Given their status, it was obvious they never became obnoxiously loud as they made appearances, but they would at least be seen speaking to one another. If anything, the stony silence of the boys would only provide both kindling and fuel to the rumors that were already circling amongst the Capitol's people; for what twin brother and best friend (whom the public was positively convinced just _had_ to be more) would be pleased with the discovery of her evening rendezvous with Crane?

They were practically playing right into Kozmo Steel's hands.

Still, despite their silence, she was poised delicately by their sides, offering smiles and waves to the younger children that called her name excitedly, or the women and teenagers who gushed over her outfit. All the while she remained firmly positioned between the two taller figures who strode at either side of her as Orion and Slade led the way toward the Tribute Center, steadily masking and pushing away the revulsion that threatened her stomach and senses.

They were about to meet twenty-four children.

And twenty-three would be _dead_ before the Games were over.

Electra shuddered slightly, a small tremor that traced the length of her spine as she swallowed and tipped her chin upward, her mask that said - _I'm-oh-so-happy-to-be-here-and-could-you-not-just-die-with-excitement!-_ foxed firmly on her face.

When the warm hand of Orion slipped sneakily into her own and the steady strength of Slade's palm made contact with the dip of her back to guide her forward, she was nearly startled into stumbling. Glancing up at the two of them quickly, she was met with slight smiles that twitched across lips, even as both men remained looking straight ahead, expressions of boredom and indifference on their faces. Her own lips curled further upward, flashing a beaming smile as the heavy weight that had settled upon her chest from the moment they had fought was eased, disappearing into nothingness.

It wasn't long before their path broke cleanly from the crowd of Capitolians, all of the colorfully constructed people chattering amongst themselves as they loitered in groups around the covered auditorium or rushed to take their seats.

Approaching a spiral staircase that was hidden behind a raised platform, each of the three held out their arms palm-side up to the peacekeeper guard posted there, remaining perfectly still as the microchip scanner registered and approved their identities for access to the President's Platform, despite the protocol being unnecessary.

 _Everyone_ knew who the Snow Twins and the late Chief Advisor's son were.

Crafted in silvers, deep reds, and brilliant golds; the dais appeared to be made of six columns from the front view and stood around two floors in height. It was oversized to fit multiple seats, while a single podium stood at the very front to face the crowd, the seal of Panem engraved in marble and granite upon it. The backdrop was made up of stone that crisscrossed in an 'X'-like pattern, the spaces between lit up behind clouded glass.

The platform was reserved for the higher end of society; your Capitolian Elite, those with government or top-level employment with the Games, and a handful of starry-eyed contest winners who entered and won the few earmarked seats. Gamemakers and their guests, the Elite's children and family, and right in the center of it all- a white-haired man with a stern expression, his lips pressed into a thin line and a snowy rose pinned to his dark suit's lapel as he looked out upon the view of the people.

Ruler of his kingdom, President Snow.

Electra sucked in a sharp breath the moment her uncle's reptilian eyes pinned her in place, a smile that was more for their onlookers than true familial love curling on his lips.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had witnessed a genuine smile from the man directed toward her or her companions. Perhaps while she was young, around her cousin's age, when her parents still joined them in walking the earth and leading their people. No matter, the truth was, no smile from her uncle's lips was a sincere thing. Electra and Orion both posed serious threats to his reign that he would rather eliminate than acknowledge, she knew.

Still, the man stood to his feet upon their arrival, ignoring the hush that fell over those seated and nibbling on their hors d'oeuvres around them as he opened his arms wide in what the entire Capitol would believe was a warm greeting, she was sure.

"Electra, sweetheart-" He drawled, his voice slow and sticky, like sleeping syrup. "Orion, Slade, my boys! Come, come! Join me, won't you?"

It was anything but.

They flashed their prettiest smiles both for him and the cameras that were no doubt trained upon them, displaying straight teeth that gleamed white in the lights, and stepped forward with what would appear, to anyone else, to be eagerness as they embraced his presence.

No one would notice the way Orion's hand squeezed her own in reassurance before he let her go, or the way Slade's grip on the small of her back would flex with barely leashed restraint before he released her into the arms of her uncle, directly after her brother had exchanged handshakes and shoulder pats with the elder Snow. No one would pick up on the way both boys tensed like coiled springs as the man wrapped his slippery arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest while he bent his head to whisper in her ear.

"Seneca Crane, Electra?" He hissed through his teeth, his words masked by his smile.

She swallowed harshly, squeezing her eyes shut against the lump in her throat that grew when the scent of his hot breath wafted over her. She had her guesses about its origins but the overly sweet smell of the Snow Rose always disguised the scent; the tang of copper, however, could never be completely overridden.

"They are lies, Uncle-" She vowed, tightening her grip as she had once done so many years ago, to assure him. "Steel only looks for ways to spurn us. I happened upon him dining alone and shared a bit of strategy talk over the Games, that is all."

 _Believe me…please, believe me…_

Their President retreated from the embrace, his hands falling to capture her elbows in a tight grip as he turned cloudy gray eyes upon her. They pierced her own sparkling blues, calculating and watchful; giving off the impression that they could dig into her mind unbidden and unearth all her secrets. They remained silent, each observing the other, until her uncle breathed in deeply and squeezed the crooks of her elbows a bit more gently as he spoke.

"Well, you have always enjoyed picking a Tribute and devising a strategy for the win."

Electra's stomach turned with his words and she swallowed her impending grimace with a beaming smile.

If only he knew.

Orion stepped forward to take her back then, curling his hand around the cup of her elbow as he nodded to his uncle. Slade briefly clasped hands with the man as he passed him by, the trio retiring to the table that had been reserved for them. It sat against the railing of the stage and to the right-hand side of the podium, the spot one of the best for optimal viewing of the Tributes who would be making their debuts below. Electra relaxed slightly as she took her seat, though her back remained perfectly straight, her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked to the side. They arranged themselves around the semi-circle that was their table, Slade to her right and Orion next to him, leaving one chair available.

Who joined them in a flurry of movements and a cloud of perfume the smelt surprisingly like cotton candy.

"Bumbling bimbos, all of them!" A feminine voice grumbled as a body plopped down to Electra's left, making the snow-haired girl smirk. "When will they realize I couldn't give a shit? _Or_ a giggle!"

Lyrical Heavensbee.

A year younger than each of the twins and their ever-present companion, the daughter of a Gamemaker was neither a mere acquaintance, nor was she yet an entirely trusted friend. With only two years of interaction after being introduced to the triad, Electra was still feeling the younger teenager out, contemplating how much trust could be instilled in the girl. Where her loyalties lied.

While Lyrical's style sometimes bordered along the lines of a few Capitolian over-dramatics, she never quite stepped over it, and more than once her words had led the Snow Heiress to believe she didn't agree with many of the Capitol laws and traditions. Bold and brash at times, Lyrical kept an edgy look about her. She stood a little shorter than Electra herself, wide grayish-blue eyes were the prominent feature upon her face, a tiny diamond stud pierced her nose and the most eye-catching of her attributes, her long locks had been dyed an array of colors; pastel pinks, greens, purples, blues, and a few yellows.

It took some time, but Electra grew to believe the girl did it for herself and because she enjoyed it more than to keep up with some outrageous Capitol trend.

"Considering they're a few cells short of a full hand, I wouldn't allow myself to count on it." Orion snarked, flashing a wolfish grin.

Both girls stared at the snow-haired boy, obviously proud of himself if the arrogant smirk was anything to go off of, before bursting into raucous laughter that had many both endeared or secretly annoyed as they watched on.

"Electra, _darling!_ " Lyrical drawled, her waspish accent overly ridiculous and clearly mocking of those around them.

The two exchanged dramatic air kisses as they hugged before settling into their seats, ignoring the awed whispers and gossip of those that sat behind and below them. It was rare the infamous trio embraced a stranger in their midst, after all. By the same time the next day, all would be talking about their interaction, no doubt fueled by yet another edition of _ISpy_.

Small talk was exchanged between the four, bubbling champagne sipped sparingly, and soon enough the theatrical music of the Tribute's entrance was blasted from hidden speakers, cueing the start of the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games, Tribute Parade.

Electra smothered her disgust with her bubbles.

* * *

Katniss Everdeen, was _not_ afraid.

The outlandish features of the Capitol citizens, with their hair piled up to the sky and dyed all sorts of colors, their skin etched and stenciled with even more color, some features enlarged and some reduced; it did not put her ill at ease. The thunderous applause and cheers that echoed around them as they were carted before the Capitol, like prime cuts fresh for the picking, it didn't make her stomach turn. The sheer size of the building they rode through didn't make her feel tiny, completely insignificant as she took in her surroundings and the people who were excited to see basically every single one of them die.

She didn't find it strange when she had stared up above them, eyes dancing over the people important enough to find themselves watching from the raised stage each horse-drawn chariot came to a stop in front of, and found a pair of blindingly bright blue eyes already fixed upon her, immobile and refusing to blink. It wasn't disconcerting, didn't send a thrill of ominous anticipation through her when those same eyes, so blue they seemed to send a zap of electricity between them through the air, flashed with something along the lines of approval before the snowy-haired girl's lips twitched upward with a faint hint of a grin as she winked.

 _Winked!_

So no, Katniss Everdeen was not afraid of the damnable situation she had found herself in. Really… _she wasn't_.

She _was_ however, immensely curious about the girl.

The girl who had watched her for every single moment they had been positioned before the podium, listening to President Snow as he droned on during his morbid speech about appreciating their sacrifice and wishing them odds in their favor. Katniss wasn't stupid; she had seen the girl with the snowy hair and a boy that looked quite like her, always standing behind or to the side of the country's leader as he spoke during Panem's televised addresses.

But she didn't really _know_ her.

So when a sudden hush fell over the small crowd of Tributes and their teams of Mentors, Stylists, and Escorts after they had returned to the Tribute Tower's lobby- only to have the murmurs and whispers increase in volume compared to the general mutterings before, some Mentor's with fond expressions (or envious ones, cautious ones, ones tinged with muted anger; as if they weren't sure they _really_ wanted to be angry or not) and Tribute's with awed looks on their faces –and Katniss recognized the reason to be the white-blonde girl with two boys by her side that bordered on unfairly attractive…she asked.

"Who is she?"

Her voice cut over both the excited gushing of Effie as she complimented Cinna's work, the dry humor of Haymitch as he teased Peeta about their flaming suits. It was near monotone, deadpanned.

It drew the attention of the young stylist that had been assigned to them and Katniss watched as his green eyes flicked over toward where she had been staring, the edges softening and a hint of a smile peeking at his lips as he took the girl in. Effie looked poised and ready to pounce, no doubt a round of juicy, juicy, juicy gossip just wait-wait-waiting to spill from her overly pink lips. Haymitch had stiffened ever-so-slightly, though it appeared to be more from uncertainty than revulsion, and he brought his flask to his lips, taking a large pull.

"That's Electra Snow-"

An ominous chill ran down her spine almost instantly, that wink seeming more threatening than she had originally thought, now that she knew who had bestowed it. Katniss jumped when Cinna's warm hand curled over her shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze as he spoke low enough for only their group to hear.

"Don't let her surname fool you," He advised, a note of fondness obvious in his tone. "That girl is _nothing_ like what you might expect."

Katniss swallowed at the warning, a thread of guilt thrumming through her for immediately assuming the girl was vile when the one person she felt closest to since she had screamed out her declaration so far, held the blonde in such high regard.

"If there's one gal you want to win over to your side, sweetheart…" Haymitch spoke gruffly, dark eyes watching over their shoulders. "That's the one."

 _Great. No pressure._

* * *

Electra was almost jittery as she waited for the elevator doors to open.

When the soft chime of the bell notifies them of their arrival at the ground floor, it took both Slade and Orion placing a warm hand on either of her shoulders, offering gentle squeezes and pushing her back down fully onto her feet before she can take a deep breath, fixing her face into a mask for the public once more just as the doors slide open.

She lifted her head and placed a soft smile upon her lips, walking unhurriedly between the boys as they breached the bustling lobby, her eyes already darting over each of the District Teams, searching out the dark hair and green eyes of the man she had helped secure a spot among the Games Stylists. She blatantly ignored the increased volume of voices, the quick approach of both Cashmere and Gloss from District One as they pulled their new tributes behind them to conduct their greetings. Finally, in the far left-hand corner, she found what she was looking for. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, a genuine smile lifting her lips as she bounced once on her toes in her excitement, unconsciously lifting an arm to call out before Orion was there to stop her.

He fixed stern, disapproving blue eyes down upon her own.

Slade leveled her with the beginnings of a scowl.

And Electra wanted to kick herself for almost making such a mistake; she couldn't show such obvious favor, especially right in front of the Career District Tributes and their Mentors. She might as well sign a bloody order for the girl's death.

 _"Orion, Electra, Slade!"_

An indulgent smile on her face as they corralled into District One's huddle, Electra exchanged air kisses with Cashmere, complimenting her on the shimmering gold dress she wore and giggling conspiratorially when the elder girl's cheeks were dusted pink as both her brother and best friend brushed kisses upon the top of her hand, greeting her jointly with all the suave smoothness they possessed. She held back a flinch however when Gloss bestowed her with the same, his clear blue orbs heated with something she would rather not decipher while he peered down at her. Stiffening as he tugged her into his chest and laid a kiss upon the top of her head, she tore herself from his arms as quickly as she could, smoothing her dress and calling the attention to something _other_ than the glares upon Orion and Slade's faces and the smirk twisting at Gloss' lips.

"Cashmere, are these your tributes?" She tittered, both the tone and action fake. "They look absolutely radiant!"

And they did.

Jewels and stones, shimmering and shining in the lights.

But they were no enchanting flame.

Electra was introduced to both Glimmer and Marvel, doing her best not to snort at their names that corresponded so noticeably with their District's main export, before she excused herself, set on making her way toward Cinna and the girl she believed might just have what it took to force a change. From the corner of her eye, she pinned Orion exchanging animated words with Beetee, Slade being cornered by Brutus, and a grin worked its way to her lips.

There was only one form she had yet to lay eyes on, and _that_ was the moment he made his presence known.

His chest pressed against her back solidly, heat transferring from his body to hers through the thin material that clothed their skin. Warm, large hands cupped her underneath her elbow and around her hip, fingers splaying wide to cover the most area and squeezing teasingly, provoking a shiver to slip down her spine.

His head dipped lower; soft lips brushed her ear, heated breath caressed the sensitive skin of her neck left bare by the style of her hair, causing goosebumps that prickled sharply over her shoulders and down her arms.

And words, dripping with honey and delivered in a seductive purr made her knees weak and her stomach flip wildly.

"Tell me, how is my fair ice princess getting along today?"

She trembled against him as she breathed in sharply, damning the low chuckle that poured from his lips as he nuzzled his nose against her hair. His voice was the same one that comforted her four years previously, before shattering her world with his whispered secrets a week later. That purring quality was the same one that awoke the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, before making it turn in disgust when he shared her family's dirty deeds. It was the one Electra dreamed of at night, the one she craved to hear, the one that always told her the truth, damning the consequences.

 _Finnick Odair._

With sun-kissed skin and bronzed hair that was touched by spun gold, he stood tall and strong behind her. Broad shoulders and chest led down to solid abdominals and trim hips before flaring into sturdy thighs and calves. He was athletically built, made for the sea and all its whims.

Blue-green eyes peered down at her, glinting with amusement and something a bit more, like shimmering sea stones that had been polished to shine. His features were cut and chiseled, all angles and edges. Physically unaltered by the Capitol's ways, he was still easily the most beautiful being in the room.

Really, it was almost unfair.

He gave her a winning smile as she spun on her heel to face him, a single eyebrow arching in challenge.

Electra let her eyes wander over him appreciatively, taking in the snug fit of the crisp suit that had been tailored just for him, cream button-down layered beneath the navy jacket and pressed pants. It only made him more attractive, like suits were prone to do. She returned his smile with one of her own, this one a bit cheeky as she caught his eyes roaming her figure much like she too had done, while her fingers dared to venture up, tugging playfully on his lapels.

"Swimmingly."

* * *

Pulling herself away from his dominating presence had taken every bit of her strength, and willpower.

Like so many other things that were consistently monitored, neither had any doubt that an extended conversation in public would draw plenty of unwanted attention. It had happened before, after all. The Capitol's Golden Girl and Boy, seen speaking to each other with soft smiles and laughter? Kozmo Steel would have the story of the century.

She left him to his tributes after a kiss to their elder Mentor's cheek, Mags giving a warm pat to her own in response. From there she finally worked her way to the group she had been watching since her arrival to the lobby, unable to hold back from the quiet squeal that left her lips and startled the District Twelve Team.

" _Cinna_!"

The man in question spun around at the sound of her excited call, catching her in his arms as she sprang toward him and spinning with her in a hug once before settling her back on her feet. Electra curled one hand around his neck, the other squeezing his hand as she gazed up at him, her smile brilliant and captivating to those who looked on.

"It was amazing, just as I _knew_ it would be!" She breathed, almost reverently, and then kissed his cheek.

Cinna grinned down at her, expert fingers tucking away a wayward strand of hair that threatened to fall from her braided crown as his expression morphed from weary to affectionate. He tapped her nose, eyes gleaming knowingly. "Yes well, the hand holding was pure genius."

Blush tinting her cheeks, she nodded once.

A throat cleared, gruff and gravelly, and her bright eyes darted up to find Haymitch Abernathy glancing between the two friends, his expression interested yet cautious. Electra didn't know how it was that people missed the intelligence that lingered behind the mask of drunkardness, his eyes were always alert, even as he took generous swigs from the flask perpetually hidden in his jacket pocket. Of course, a master at her own disguises, the experience might lend a hand to seeing what he worked so hard to hide.

Or bury.

"Our apologies," Cinna hummed, flattening a hand across her shoulder blades as he turned them toward those that stood behind them. "Electra Snow, I would like to introduce you to the Tributes of District Twelve; Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen."

Bright eyes fell on the younger duo, meeting a pair of sky blues that held just a touch of warmness amongst the wariness.

Peeta Mellark was a soothing character, his easy smile and eagerness to please clearly displayed as he held out his hand to grasp her own almost immediately. He was an inch or so shorter than Electra, but he made up for the lack of height with quite a stocky frame. Strength rippled in the muscles along his forearms and shoulders, though she wondered how long he would have to hone the advantage.

Then cursed her thoughts for immediately sinking into such a mindset.

It wasn't any less than the truth, though. From the moment they set foot upon the bullet train that led them to the Capitol, they were living on borrowed time.

"It's great to meet you, Miss. Snow-" Peeta greeted her, speaking so quickly his words almost jumbled together.

"Likewise," She flashed him another smile, genuine and warm. "But please, leave my last name out of this. Call me Electra."

Effie gasped, dramatically, her hand fluttering in front of her face before settling over her heaving chest, and Electra worried she might just faint at their feet. Haymitch choked on his drink with wide eyes, sputtering loudly. Cinna and Portia both dipped their heads, knowing smirks twitching across their lips. Peeta grinned, almost dumbly as he laughed in astonishment.

And Electra turned her eyes to the person stood stiffly next to him, brilliant blues meeting slate grays, just as guarded, intuitive, and shrewd as her own.

Katniss Everdeen was anything but weak, and if she felt even the slightest inclination of intimidation, she didn't express it. Her eyes flicked from head to toe of the other girl, taking note of everything that she could from the body language Electra displayed. They watched each other for a moment, each glancing over the other, cataloging and assessing. Electra was patient and gave the younger girl her time, a small but warm smile curling at her lips, until Katniss seemed to settle and slowly offered her hand.

She opened her mouth, ready to officially meet the girl who was already being proclaimed, _The Girl On Fire_ -

But it wasn't meant to be.

There was a sudden slamming of doors behind them, the booming thud as they hit the walls reverberating throughout the lobby like thunder, and a bit of a scuffle before a voice rang out above the noise, echoing off the thick walls and high ceilings.

" _Electra Snow!"_

The feral scream of her name and the manic eyes of the person who screamed it was the only warning she had before her back connected solidly with the concrete and marble of the wall behind her, the painful sound of impact audible for all those to hear who stood throughout the lobby of the Tribute Tower.

She blinked, dazed from the smack of her skull upon the hard surface, a high-pitched groan escaping her lips before her gaze focused, blue eyes meeting the wildly crazed and artificially colored purples in front of her. Her throat spasmed under the weight of his hand where he gripped, her back arching as she tried to put space between them. There was a slow, creeping warmth that tickled at the nape of her neck, and she choked through a swallow at the instinctual knowledge that she was no doubt bleeding from the back of her head.

"Florian," She croaked out, sucking in as deep a breath she could manage.

Pure chaos erupted all around them after a brief moment of utterly bewildered silence.

From the corner of her eye, Electra could just see both Orion and Slade shoving tributes and mentors alike to the side, bulldozing through the groups of bodies between her and them, faces pinched and set in expressions of pure fury and rage. She gasped as the ex-tribute stylist shook her roughly by the throat, lifting her with the same grip until her toes held all of her weight, and she clawed at his arm to ease the pressure on her throat.

The new vantage point gave way to the scenery behind them, and she almost cringed as she took note of the mass panic and confusion.

Peacekeepers had appeared from the edges of the room, creating two separate walkways with their shields that outlined an exit for those who had bought their way onto the lobby floor back out of the Center and away from the commotion, while another set pushed tributes hurriedly toward the bay of elevators that would whisk them above into their apartments. Through it all, an automated voice calmly directed those within the lobby, urging those within to leave the area immediately.

" _Tributes, proceed to your designated apartments. Please disperse. Tributes, proceed to your designated apartments. Please disperse. Tributes, proceed-"_

"Elle!"

The voice cried out over the disembodied drone of commands, laced with worry and even a bit of fear. She couldn't see Cinna any longer from where she stood, Florian's bruising shove sent her into the wall that had been a few paces from where they had congregated with the team of Twelve and left her unable to make eye contact any longer. But she knew they could see her, and the last thing she wanted with either Peeta or Katniss to witness whatever might be coming next.

Sucking in as much breath as she could manage, her lips parted, calling out to her friend.

"Get them _out_ of here Cinn!" Electra choked out, raising her voice until her attacker squeezed hard enough she could no longer continue. "They don't need to se-"

Florian Wheedlesnap was a man past his prime and desperate to hold on to what he was losing.

He stood at just under six-feet in height, his skin a leathery orange, his hair and eyes always changing colors and shapes. He had a lean build that she really should have been able to overcome or at least fight, but with one look into his pupils that were blown wide, nearly swallowing the enhanced purple of his irises, Electra understood why her attempts were thwarted.

The aid of muscular steroids and proteins were readily available to Capitolians, especially during the celebration of the Games. Those who wanted to resemble their favorite Tributes and Mentors simply gobbled the fast-acting and temporary serums like the best of the Capitol's treats there were to offer. Now, staring into the feral insanity that reflected back at her, she had to wonder just how many sips of spirit and shots of enhancement serums Florian had taken before barging his way onto the scene.

"Shut up, you little snow _bitch_!" Florian screeched, the sound making those nearby wince. "Or perhaps I'll tear that vile tongue from your very mouth!"

With the faint ripple of caution that raced down her spine, she wasn't so sure she could doubt him.

" _Tributes, disperse! Vacate at once! Tributes-"_

"Cut the feed, fuck!"

Orion's deep voice rose above the general noise, demanding the cameras be dismantled. Electra felt a wave of gratitude, relief in his order. The last thing they needed was this confrontation aired out to the Capitol and its inhabitants.

" _Vacate at once! All remaining civilians please disperse at-"_

"That means you, Odair."

Eyes flying open wide at Slade's snarl of a demand, Electra arched just enough to see over the now sweating man's shoulder, sucking in a sharp breath when her electric blues connected with a pair of sea greens.

There he stood; chest rising and falling at an accelerated rate beneath the form-fitting suit she had nearly salivated over what couldn't have been more than thirty minutes before. His fists were clenched violently at his sides, body tense and ready to spring into action, the sun-tanned skin pulled tight over his knuckles and jawline. The blue-green color of his eyes had darkened to the deepest of navy and hunter green, betraying the fire of his emotions, the intensity of his ferocity.

"Blow me Wolfhart, I'm not going anywhere." Finnick snarked back, only the tremor in his voice giving note to his aggression.

Manic laughter echoed through the dome-like room, sending a chill along her spine. "Well, would you look at that-"

She gasped as she was whirled around suddenly, coughing aloud when her back thumped against a heaving chest before freezing when the cool sensation of steel along the vulnerable skin of her neck registered in her mind. Electra gazed ahead, her chin tipped up just slightly to put more space between her and the blade threatening her throat, eyes dancing across the overly tense forms of the three men before her, a row of white in the form of peacekeepers standing at attention behind them.

"Another defender!" Florian cackled lewdly against her ear, making her flinch. "I have to wonder, what is it about you, hmm? Is it the filth that flees your mouth or just this ice cold pussy that gets them all riled up?"

Electra shrieked when the fifty-something stylist groped for her thighs, a zap of pain rippling along her spine as the blade sliced a thin line along the column of her throat when she jerked away from his hands.

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed convulsively, both from the sensation of being violated and the sickly familiar scent that doused her nose as Florian rasped against her ear. Alcohol, the disgustingly sweet scent of serums and something else, mixed with the copper tang of blood. It was all too recognizable, and there was only one other person in the Capitol that she had ever smelt it upon. A wave of fury roiled in her stomach then, flowed through her veins.

"What the _fuck_?!" Slade hissed, taking a single step toward them.

"Stay back!"

Finnick practically growled out his words, teeth bared and lip curling back. "Get your fucking hands _off_ of her!"

Orion remained deadly silent, the kind of quiet that made others uneasy as he gazed over their positions, the blue of his eyes nearly pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

The ex-stylist breathed against her ear, nearly panting through the motions, a rattling sound echoing through each inhale. Sweat poured down his brow, slipping down his spine, wetting the back of her dress as his own shirt became damp. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion once more, a shudder coursing along her spine when the stomach-turning scent of his breath filled her nose and the sensation of clammy skin grasped at her own.

"You cost me… _everything!_ " Florian wheezed, his grip beginning to turn shaky.

He was crashing, Electra realized.

The potent drugs in his system were either depleting more quickly than expected, or the mixture he had concocted backfired with each other, working against instead of with his body. The pauses and slurs in his sentences gave a hint to malfunctioning cognitive thinking, the tremors in his limbs gave way to muscle degeneration, his strength was literally being sapped from his body by the products poisoning his blood.

"My position…my prestige!" He ranted, stumbling forward with her.

She grimaced as her ankle turned, the sign of pain on her face provoking low noises of anger from the men in front of her, each of them inching forward when the lunatic of a fashion designer wasn't paying attention.

"Florian Wheedlesnap!" An authoritative voice called out, making the unhinged man fumble his speech. "You will unhand the Mistress Snow _immediately_ , and proceed to kneel with your hands flat against the floor!"

Electra gasped as Florian stumbled backward, knocking over a thick column that supported a decorative vase, sending it crashing and shattering against the granite flooring. He backed them into a corner, one arm banded firmly over her collarbone, the other still poised with the blade against her skin. Each jerky movement caused the sharp edge of the blade to snag or slide against her neck, painting the ivory complexion of her skin an alarming crimson that had Finnick, Orion, and Slade clenching their jaws and whispering heatedly between themselves.

Florian coughed and sputtered on his quickened breath, his lips tinting red as blood bubbled up his throat and stained his mouth. His eyes flew wildly around them, the formation of peacekeepers boxing them in, eliminating all possible exits. It made him paranoid, his concentration broken as his thoughts raced for a solution for what he had started.

"Get me Crane!" He demanded, spitting blood to the floor as he cackled madly. "Or I'll slit her fucking throat! I'm already dying, might as well make it interesting, eh?"

Silence met his request, before the Head Peacekeeper muttered something into his radio, and a small team slipped through the heavy double doors at the front of the room.

Florian's words were trailing off, unable to both speak and keep a watchful eye on those waiting to take him down at a moment's notice. Electra blinked heavily, black spots dotting her vision. Worried blue-greens stared back at her once she managed to pry them open again, begging silently for her to stay awake. The multiple cuts and slices along her neck were proving to be more of an issue than she originally thought; the blood loss was greater than any of them realized as it steadily trailed down her neck and along the valley of her breasts.

"Crane won't do anything for you, Florian." Electra spit out, her voice disgustingly weak.

She wrinkled her nose.

"Shut _up_!" He snarled, physically shaking her as she hissed.

She could see the boys shaking their heads, lifting their hands in a placating motion, muttering for her to stop talking to the deranged man that was holding her at knife-point. But Electra Snow was not one to go down without a fight, and though the additives he took made it harder for her to physically fight him off, she still had her tongue, as he said.

"He won't do anything, because you're a lost cause Florian. Have you not noticed? You're a has-been, old fucking news." Electra snapped, fire behind her words. "It doesn't matter how much you cry, Seneca is not going to reinstate you. Especially after that performance!"

The knife cut deeper into her neck, making her gasp.

"Elle, dammit, be _quiet_!" Finnick shouted, his command reiterated by both Orion and Slade.

She sucked in a breath, stuttering slightly as her vision blurred. "Hurting me won't get you a damn thing, except _killed_."

There was a loud shout and then she felt herself falling through the air, though it seemed like it took twice as long for her body to make contact with the ground than it should have.

Electra squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the impact, when she was suddenly flying upward. Warm, strong arms wrapped around her body, lifting her into a solid chest with the heart hammering away inside, right beneath where her ear now laid. The scent of salty air and warm sunshine filled her nose, making her curl into the embrace, recognizing it as safe.

"Open your eyes Electra, _please_!"

She wanted to answer that voice, to do as he asked. More than anything. She didn't like the fear that tainted his tone, it wasn't something she had ever heard in him before. But the darkness had settled in around her eyes, blurring out all colors and shapes. It wrapped around her wrists and ankles, the silky tendrils weighing her down, tugging and pulling her into the blackened abyss.

"Fuck, Elle c'mon!"

She tried, really she did.

Her last thought was of a honeyed voice and the scent of ocean air, the feel of heated sunlight bathing her skin. And how she _really_ hated to leave him, before they even really had the chance to begin.

* * *

 _No Beta here, all mistakes are my own. Please let me know if something stands out!_

* * *

 **-Sugar And Snow, Information-**

 **Review Response:** You're all amazing for reviewing! I'll be answering reviews through PM's if you have an account and have your inbox open. In the future, I might start answering guest reviews here at the bottom.


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